The Whispers
by Penny Wishes
Summary: Post-hogwarts. the battle wounds are everlasting, and Ron finds that the only thing worse then dying in the war is living after it... I am no longer a person, I am a whisper of a person a shell of what I once was... Drugscuttinganorexia etc.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
**Rating:** R  
  
**Summary:** Post-hogwarts. the battle wounds are everlasting, and Ron finds that the only thing worse then dying in the war is living after it... I am no longer a person, I am a whisper of a person a shell of what once was... Drugs/cutting/anorexia etc. When the trio has to meet up again can they save each other from the depression each of them suffers from?  
  
**A/N**: The first chapter is pretty tame it's mainly to introduce Ron's character, and how he is perceived by those around him, in the later chapters it gets a little "thicker" hence the R rating.

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**The Whispers******   
  
_Part One__   
  
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He's hollow, a hollow of a person, a shell, a whisper. Just as he's saved the world as we know it, he's lost himself and for that My breath hitches in my chest and seems to be stuck.  
  
It happens often, lack of oxygen, they explain, saying I take too few breaths and breath too shallowly, or maybe just hold my breath without realizing it, they accompany it with suppressed emotions. As if emotions are just floating around and get occasionally stuck in my lungs. Counseling they say, is a good way to fix it, but I won't go.  
  
"That's just not going to work for me Leslie," I say throwing on my best good-natured smile.  
  
"Well, Mr. Weasley, there's really no other way to fix it, it won't go away until you face your problems and work through them," She replies in perfect Medi-witch routine. I lean forward wiping an imaginary hair off her cheek.  
  
"That potion you gave me last time, the one that clears out your thoughts that made the chest pain go away, and the headaches," I say casually. She shrinks underneath my hand and turns slightly pink.  
  
"Well, Mr. Weasley, that's a potion we only give when the pain is debilitating, and only if it's a purely medical case-"  
  
"A broken heart isn't considered medical?" I ask the pitch of my voice dropping slightly as my body falls nearer to the blonde witch bellow me. She puts her hand up and pushes it against my chest as if to push me away but at contact it goes slack.  
  
"I could get in a lot of trouble if they find out-"  
  
"Like, fired?" I ask. She nods her blue eyes big and clear.  
  
"Well, I can't ask you to do something that could get you fired," I stand back up and run a hand through my hair, "Guess I'll just go then-"  
  
"Mr. Weasley-"  
  
"Call me Ron,"  
  
"Ron, um, I think, actually that they might have neglected one test, and, well, your condition could still be medical, I suppose," She stops abruptly as if realizing what she's saying and I walk towards her an almost sincerely grateful look on my face, almost.  
  
"Well, Leslie, I can't ask... If it's too much of a hassle-"  
  
"Not at all, I'll write you a prescription," her little pale hands shake as she scribbles out he prescription and hands it to me. I let my hand rest to long against her as I take it from her and her cheeks go pink. "After all," she continues as I put on my coat, "you're Ron Weasley. I mean it's the _least_ I can do, considering all you've done for the wizarding world."  
  
Vomit burns my throat but I manage a smile before shrugging in that good-natured way people seem to expect from me.  
  
"If you still have chest pains," She begins grabbing another scrap of paper and scribbling something down, "This is my Flat address, if it's bad, you could... Just stop by, I just went to a seminar on relaxation charms and...Well I have a muggle phone line too so here's that number..."  
  
"Thanks," I say taking the paper, and shoving it into my pocket. I shred it into little pieces as I sit in my flat waiting. Waiting for nothing really, like I need a sign telling me it's ok to tip the bottle of potion back and take a long drink, a long drink to help push away all the bad thoughts clouding my mind. Pigwidgeon flies through my window and drops an envelope on my table. I lean forward picking it up, it doesn't say anything on the front except a quickly scrawled "Ron" I balance the envelope on my hand a second before opening it._Ron,  
Something bad has happened, and mum's too ill to write, so I suppose I'm the messenger. I don't know how to say it nicely, so I'll just write it, Percy died. Suicide. You have to come home; you have to come home now. Please.  
  
Love,  
  
Ginny_

_  
_  
I curse softly, the perfect sign. I tip back and the liquid is dull sliding down my throat my head swims as I start floating, up, up, up, away from all the hate, all the pain. A whisper floating through life watching my mortal body suffer, and not caring. Never caring.

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Please review and another chapter will be up soon.


	2. Part Two

**A/N**: Thank-you to my reviewers! I hope this installment lives up to you're expectations. This is the first story I've written where I haven't planned it out, every bit and piece, into a nice little package, it's all free-hand, flowing right out of my brain so, it may be in some differing contexts, etc. This chapter, as with the second one is fairly mild in rating, it does get steeply higher rated though quite fast, for further reference.

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**Part 2**

Hugs, arms pulling bodies close, old scents and too much heat. From one person to the next it made me ill. First Ginny and then bombarded with brothers, my father, grandparents, old friends of the family, aunts uncles, until at last I got pushed to the outer edges.

My throat aches for liquid but I sustain myself. My body aches from the extensive weight lifting I forced myself to do that morning. Forced myself to lift and lift and lift until it burned so badly that I could take my potion with real reason, that I could let myself be lost.

Ginny sits down in a chair next to mine and starts talking to me but my mind is too far gone to understand my own replies. My eyes, however, can still somehow take in the fact that her already slim figure is now deathly looking her eyes seem to have sunk so far into her face that the shadows surrounding them are permanent. Somewhere it hurts, it hurts to see her like this and a wave of guilt engulfs me.

I can't take care of you. I leave; I left you here with my parents, my dying parents, to be overwhelmed with their sickness. I've sentenced you to a life you don't deserve, already lost, already a whisper, forcing a dead body to continue on, at the age of seventeen.

My chest is tight and in seconds my head is hanging between my knees and I'm coughing. My head reels in pain. Around me everyone is gathering an angry silence filling the room, only to be broken by my coughs. My whole body shakes, shuddering violently in round after round of pain until at last my lungs seem to have enough air to allow some wheezing breaths.

My mother's arm has found it's way around my shoulders and she is holding a cup of warm tea, my sister has water, and in front of me the rest of my family watches in concern, I take a sip of the tea before standing up taking a few staggering steps and walking up to my old bedroom where my stuff is, where my potion is. Behind me I know they are talking to me- "Ron, are you ok?" "Just sit down, relax," "Has that ever happened before?" "Ron-"

I push open the door to my room and go straight to the bottle sitting on my old, cracked school desk, I tip it back letting long slow drops slide down my throat, only setting it down when I feel the hand against my back.

"Ron?" The voice is soft, quiet as a whisper, and when I turn, she's standing there.

"Hermione, what are you doing here... In my room?" Her gray face tints slightly pink as she replies.

"I suppose when I apperated, this was the room in my mind."

"Oh," I can't think of anything else to say. I stretch out on my bed still watching her out of the corner of my eye. She goes and sits on the edge of the bed putting one hand lightly on my stomach, pinching the gray fabric of my shirt between her fingers.

"You look..." She trails off watching me as I watch her.

"Tired," I finish for her and she nods.

"Tired."

"And you, look organized," I say eyeing her professional looking business suit and short hair smooth and flat against her head. I want to take my hand and run it through her hair until it turns curly and frizzled again, but I don't. She stands at this and straightens.

"Well, I was and then-"She stops abruptly, mid-sentence but I know the words formed in her head, 'My plan was interrupted.' 'By my brother killing himself,' I add in my mind. "Well, I should go say hello to everyone," She turns stiffly and starts to towards the door, but stops when she gets there.

"I've missed you," She breathes. I turn propping myself up on my elbows and look at her. I don't reply, but I don't need to, we both know what I would have said if I had replied.

She shuts the door and as she does I get up and grab my bottle.

"You wouldn't miss me if you hadn't organized me out of your life." I say to the angry silence left in her wake.

The liquid slides down my throat easily and I float away on a gray cloud.

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**A/N- Continued**: More to come soon, please review, it takes me hours to write this, it only takes seconds to review!


	3. Part Three

**A/N**: Thank you reviewers! Yes, I know the chapters are short, and I trully wish my brain would produce more to work with, but when it stops it just stops. Sorry about the delays on this chapter, I'm being bombarded in school and it's only been a few weeks! ugg. Oh well, I'll try to get the next installment up faster...

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**Part Three**

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"How long have you been taking it?"

"On and off for a few weeks."

"Everyday, or only after attacks?"

"Only when I have the chest pain or headaches."

"Do you get those even without the attacks?"

"Sometimes."

"And they don't have a diagnosis?"

"No."

"You know it's not good for you, it's really addictive, you should be careful."

"I am being careful."

"You didn't look like you were being careful yesterday."

"I was."

"You were drinking un-specified amounts straight from the bottle."

"And it tasted brilliant."

"Ron, could you please _try _and be serious about this? This is your health we're talking about."

"And I have a healer I go to, I don't need you to nag me about it too."

"I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I'm a grown man, I don't need you to look out for me."

"Well clearly, your sick so-"

"Are you a healer?"

"No but-"

"Then piss off."

"Ron I'm trying to help-"

"I don't need your medical help."

"Well, ok then, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, maybe... Um, we could talk about- Christ Hermione, would you stop working for two seconds?" Her eyes travel up to mine from my desk that she has already covered with parchment.

"These are due in two days."

"I'm going to be gone in two days," I say the words through my teeth, and wonder why I'm so angry.

"My life can't exactly just stop because..." She trails off and I'm yelling at her before I can shut my mouth.

"Because my fucking brother killed himself?" Something glistens in her left eye and with a blink is smoothed out and gone before it had managed to amount to anything.

"Don't say that. Don't pretend that I don't care."

"Do you?"

"Ron," she lets out a long shaky sigh and her facial expression turns gray. "This is the twelfth funeral, twelfth in less then a year that I have come to. After a few you have to stop letting death run your life."

"So you're aloud to not care, because you go to so many?"

"I'm aloud to move on, because I've come to terms with the fact that life ends." Her tone is so contained it makes me want to scream, or cry, or maybe laugh. I stare at her forehead, not because I can't look her in the eye, but because it looks so wrong, stark and pale against her flat dark hair. Her hair used to be so wild, and consuming, falling into her eyes and cloaking her forehead, her entire face, in a sketchy shadow. But her hair is flat now, lying obediently against her forehead and cutting off before it reaches her shoulders. Like the last imperfection, the last thing that made her human she cut off.

"Do you cry?" the words are spilling from my mouth softly, a whisper, and I'm not sure why.

"What?"

"Do. You. Cry?" Her mouth opens but the words seem to be lost and she closes it again. I hear laughing and can't seem to figure out where it's coming from until I'm coughing and choking, and realize the laughing was my own.

I'm drinking my potion and Hermione is watching me nervously. The liquid feels hot against my throat and my fingers tingle. I take her hand and pull her against me and she looks scared and I like it, I put my hand up and run it through her hair again and again, and she's talking to me but I don't hear the words, I pull the short cropped strands of hair into her eyes and then hush her words angrily with my own mouth and she squirms between my arms.

"What the hell-" She starts loudly but I just leave, I walk out of the room pulling the door shut behind me and am downstairs totally unaware, and uncaring.

"Ron, guess who's here," Ginny's forcibly optimistic voice says as I pour myself some lemonade. I look over and the thin shadow of Harry falls across my face. His eyes are big and empty and his shoulders are tight despite the hand Ginny has resting on one.

"Hey," I mutter and he nods and then I'm crushing him between my arms just as they were all doing to me the day before and we're both shaking.

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**A/N-Cont. :**Suprised by the kiss? I was too, I didn't expect it to come so soon, but alas it just popped out, but it really wasn't very romantic so don't get your hopes up. ;)

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	4. Part Four

A/N: Thank you reviewers! As susual you guys keep me going! I'm hoping to get these up faster, but you never know... Enjoy!

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It's like reading an old book, you know how the story goes, but you forget some parts. And there are even some parts you're sure weren't there before, and how you interpret it, the overall meaning, it's changed. Harry's changed and I suppose I have too. He sits a little too comfortably, as if he's trying and supports his head with his hand. The conversation isn't easy but it's comfortable, familiar.

"So this is how the story ends? Ron Weasley, the search to prove himself, all that, you've given up to become world's most famous bum?" He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"It's more that I'm on a break, you know? Laying back until I'm ready to kick it into the working world," I explain. "That what you've been doing all this time, no letters? Auror training?" He tilts his head to one side and sighs a little.

"It's what I was doing, until I realized that most of this world still thinks of me as a celebrity. A pretty face to put in the papers, I didn't get any real cases, little side stuff, mostly."

"People are assholes. You can defeat the most powerful dark lord of our time, but they still think your soft. Not to mention that you don't have a pretty face." Harry grins and slugs me in the shoulder.

"Seriously though, it got to be so pointless. Even the big cases, it's like, I saw fucking Lucious Malfoy kill person after person, but they still let shit like him walk free, because apparently my word isn't enough. So while we're out there researching, he's killing people," His voice gets harsher, angrier and there's a flame in his eye that I've not seen in too long. "He killed Neville, I'm sure of it." His voice is barely there, a whisper but I feel like he's screaming.

I swear mainly because I can't think of anything else to do, and Harry looks up at me.

"You know, I really honestly thought after he was gone, after that, then this would all end, you know? We win. We get our happily ever after." He shakes his head and the shine in his eyes dulls to nothing.

"I know," I say softly. Harry's stiff sitting upright and grinding his teeth inside his mouth.

"It's almost, almost worse. I never see you anymore, and Hermione... Well, she's like not even human anymore... And _everyone_ is dying. Jesus." His voice cracks and I can see that his hands are shaking. "Ginny, Ginny's so thin," He's whispering again and I suddenly have the urge to punch him, to hurt him, to scream in his face.

"I know." I say again but louder, more abrupt. Harry's eyes move back to me. Neither of us say anything for a while and my throat burns, dry and cracked and I need more.

"I can't stand another funeral," Harry finally says and my stomach twists thinking of all the funeral letters I just tossed aside, all the ones I'd skipped. He stands and walks over to the kitchen grabbing a glass and the fire whiskey from the cupboard, he fills the glass halfway and then fills the rest with butterbeer. "Think I can get Hermione to stop working long enough to say hello?" I loosen up almost immediately still feeling her lips.

"Doubt it," I mutter. And he shrugs tipping back and downing the whole glass. He slams the glass on the table, shakes his head slightly and starts up the stairs.

I yawn letting my head fall back against the back of the chair. I stare up at the ceiling, imagining Harry walking buzzed into my old bedroom, I can almost see Hermione scowling at him and lecturing him. I laugh imagining her, the new her, talking about work, sitting stiff and rigid, and perfect, almost mechanically so. I laugh seeing Harry so incredibly broken and buzzed getting that glint in his eyes and shaking, shaking with anger. I laugh seeing Hermione scowl at it, a little girl scoffing at a broken toy. I laugh seeing her so contained, imagining her at all those funerals one after the other, rolling her eyes at Harry's depressed silence, shaking her head at Ginny's tears, disapproving of my absence, so contained that I want her to break I want to make her scream and yell and laugh and smile, and cry. I want her to cry so badly.

"Ron, are you ok?" Ginny's careful, cautious, a tiny hand resting on my shoulder and the other wiping away at tears I didn't know were falling.

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A/N-Cont.: Sigh Sometimes I really depress myself with this stuff.... Please R/R!

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	5. Part Five

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**A/N: **Thank you my dear, dear, reviewers, you guys rock more then I can ever say, I know that the installments are short, and the format changes slightly in each section,and that it can be pretty depressing, but I live on reviews! So if there is anything that goes through your head after reading this, then tell me, whether good or bad!

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**Part Five**

My feet hang off the end of my bed and my lips itch to relieve myself of the thought coursing through my brain. Without thought maybe I could sleep, even in my too-small-bed. I roll onto my side and stare at the stack of papers and books on my desk, where Hermione had been working hours before, right before I kicked her out of my room so I could sleep.

I wouldn't have minded if she stayed, stayed in my room with me, as long as she would stop working, she could sit on the edge of my bed again and lay her hand across my stomach and watch me. She could run her fingers through my hair; she could lie next to me and rest her head against my chest. She could fall asleep with me and let her soft breaths tickle my neck. She could trail her fingers across my skin and smile when I laughed. She could kiss me, and kiss me and kiss me.

I'm up and holding the papers before I realize it and ripping them and ripping them and ripping them and I let all the pieces flutter softly to the ground. And I'm laying on the ground with them staring at my ceiling, making a snow angel in the pieces of Hermione, the ugly pieces.

The knock on my door is abrupt and almost scared and I shoot up off the floor quickly, staring down at the white confetti and my voice is guilty as I say:

"Come in."

The door creaks open softly and Hermione slips in her eyes wide. I look to her and then down at the floor but her eyes are only on me. If she notices all her ruined work she doesn't show any signs of it.

"What's wrong?" I ask and my voice is deep and almost silent.

"Why isn't Harry sleeping in here with you?" She asks and her tone is so mechanical and serious that it makes me shiver.

"I don't know, he just said he'd sleep in the living room on the couch, why?"

"I went down there and-"Her voice quavers and she blinks twice regaining her composure in a matter of seconds. "Blood. Um, he has these cuts... He was just sitting there and, I don't know if he saw me..." She trails off and turns already half way down the stairs when I realize I'm supposed to follow.

Harry's in the kitchen when we get down there his arms in the sink up to his elbows and a soft blurry red water is running off of them.

"It's none of your business." Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

"How is it none of our business?" Hermione's tone asks sharply, she pulls his arms out of the sink, shuts off the water and immediately starts with healing spells I can see, in the eerie light, the soft pink marks showing recent cuts and pale white ones showing the older cuts. Harry yanks his arm out of Hermione's hand and ducks away his body seeming to shake.

"Well, they're not your arms are they?" He asks acidly.

"We're your best friends." Hermione replies and Harry coughs loudly his body seeming to reel.

"What?" Hermione asks angrily.

"You were one of my best friends, you _were_ one of his best friends," He continues motioning to me, and I feel my body heat up as Harry's eyes seem to sear a cut across my own face. "But now you're..." His voice quavers and he mumbles, "Tell her Ron."

"Tell me what?" Hermione starts softly.

"Nothing," I say to her, and then, "You are our friend," I say avoiding Harry's eyes. Harry shakes his head and starts to walk toward the couch Ginny had set up for him earlier.

"Harry, it's not healthy." Hermione says following after him.

"It's not healthy not doing it."

"What?" Hermione asks incredulously, there both standing in front of the couch as if too angry to sit, and I stand and watch from the kitchen.

"I need it, I need it to relax, I need it to sleep," his voice gets quieter and he turns away from her. "I need it to forget."

"Forget?" Hermione asks softly, but with what I've come to see is her automated sympathy, a look and tone she has used so much that it's like a new mask she puts on.

"We all have our coping methods, this is mine." Harry says quickly, in an end-of-topic kind of way. Hermione sighs loudly, falsely.

"Hurting yourself is not a coping method!" She half shouts.

"Then why do you do it?" Harry's voice goes dull and he collapses backwards onto the couch.

"What?" her question is slow, careful and she sits down next to him.

"Why do you hurt yourself? You walk around lecturing and, and.."

"And what?"

"And _nothing_. Nothing." Harry turns away from her and in the dark he looks real. Too real, all the shadows sticking in the lines in his face, the lines that are there from frowning, and creasing his forehead in thought and anger. She puts a hand on his shoulder and after a second his face changes, the lines disappear and he turns to look at her.

"I won't do it anymore." His voice is fake, almost as automated as hers and it makes me ill.

"You have to promise me that Harry," Her voice is too sugar-coated and I'm back in my room running my hands through the confetti still lying on my floor. My thoughts go back to Leslie and how my voice sounded when I talked to her. Sad, and yet, good-natured, just like Harry's had been to Hermione, and Hermione swallowed it.

She's too smart to believe it, but it makes her feel better, if he says it, she does her part, and Harry knows that, and I know that. You say what they want to hear, and they leave you alone.

I wonder why I don't just tell her what she wants to hear, why I don't take the easy way out... Maybe I don't want her to leave me alone. If I have to be like this, a ghost, a whisper, maybe I want to bring someone else with me.

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**A/N-Cont: **This chapter was hard to write, mainly because it has some relevence to things I've been through. Whether you liked it or not PLEASE REVIEW!

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	6. Part 6

A/N: I know it's been a LONG time but I just re-read this the other day and felt inspired- let me know what you think.

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Part 6

I'm rolling my eyes at Harry, glaring at him for falling into fakeness and he's glaring right back. I wouldn't stand up to Hermione for him and now he won't either. It's too hard, everything is. Fake is easy. No matter how you look at it, it's easier to lie than tell the truth, easier to fake a physical pain than face the real one. Hell, I hear it's easier for a woman to fake an orgasm than to actually let herself have one.

Hermione sits, her knees pressed tightly together and I wonder if that's true, I wonder if I could force her to lose control for once in her damn life.

Things only get worse when Ginny whisks downstairs, silent as ever, almost as if she floated down the staircase, her feet never actually landing on the steps.

"Harry?" She asks through squinted eyes.

"We're all down here," Hermione answers, an explanation for the noise we had made.

"Oh," she glides slowly into the path of light that the kitchen light is leaking. Her white skin blends into the large white t-shirt she's wearing, ghost-like. Her long thin legs shiver as she continues towards us. "What's going on?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," Harry answers quickly and forcefully.

"Harry," Hermione starts accusingly, "I have you spoken with Ginny about this? As a friend and member of your support system it would be best if-"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Harry interrupts, furious. He stands bounding in front of Hermione, one arm held back as if getting ready to hit her across the face. Part of me hopes he does, begs him to. Give her a hard hit across the face, something to turn her cheeks red, to make her hair fall out of style, to make tears cling her cheeks in long warm strides.

"Harry, I just think-" At this I'm up on my feet to, pushing Harry out of the way and grabbing her jaw in my hand.

"It's his business, not yours, your business is papers and rules and other bullshit that nobody really give s shit about." Her cool brown eyes stare back at mine and for a second she doesn't say anything.

In my peripheral vision I can see Ginny at my side, I can see her lips moving, I know she's telling me to stop, to cool down, to quit it, but I don't. In a swift move Harry's at her side, telling her to "Let them work it out" And taking her little hand in his. They're taking the stairs up to her room. A small part of me is there watching them a spirit, a whisper, floating in the corner, begging Harry to ask her why she's lost her appetite, begging him to tell her he misses her fire, and can't stand to be with her when she doesn't have it.

Harry can't deal with her the same way that I can't, he feels responsible even though it's my fault. I'm the one that left her, but he did too, I guess we both did, and she started to fade, lost the fire that made her my sister, lost the fire that made Harry love her and want her. Now she's just a floating stranger, unrelated, and somehow unwavering, strong in her patheticness.

"Let go of my chin," Hermione says in a slow and controlled voice, my whisper returns to me and I've lost all sight of Harry and Ginny, lost sight of everything except Hermione and her practical, controlled, mechanical face.

I let go and she stands up, our bodies are close, inches apart and electric sparks seem to be jetting back and forth between them. Anger and tension and sex resonates between us and I'm not sure if I'd rather kiss her or hit her.

"I'm angry with you for ruining the papers I had been working on," her monotone voice says coolly, without the slightest hint of anger in her robot-voice. "I guess I'll have to keep them somewhere else. I wasn't aware that you were still that immature."

"Well, now you are." I match her tone adding a spark of real anger. I can't help but lean forward as I do clenching my hands into fists. She puts a firm hand against my chest.

"Ron, I need to go to bed and so do you," She says slowly. I don't move and as she tries to slide away from me I catch her and pull her against me, she takes me aggression for a hug and clasps her arms loosely around me as well, an obligatory hug and it drives me wild. I don't want her to hug me because she feels like she has to, I want her to scream at me, hit me, slap me, bite me, kiss me. I crush her body against mine and I'm shaking, and she's shaking in my arms. I can tell she's scared, she's trying to stop my shaking, and I'm coughing and my head hurts and I can't breath and she's saying "Ron, calm down- Ron, please, calm down-!" Over and over again, her voice slowly rising in pitch until she's almost screaming- almost. And then I stop.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I just need my medication-"

"Are you sure?" she's nearly sincere.

"No." And I'm not, and for some reason I think she should know, I'm not sure.

"Can I do anything to help?" I give her credit for asking, I know she expects me to say no and I am nearly saying no when I have a thought, and evil little thought.

"You think you could sleep with me?" She shoots me a look, quizzical maybe even disgusted. "I don't mean sex, I mean could you lie down with me, like you used to-" I fight the urge to say "during the war" partially because I don't want to think about the war and partially because when she'd lie down with me- it always lead to sex, eventually. "You know, just play with my hair or tell things about your muggle childhood," I'm pushing her limits and I can tell, those sort of things don't fit in her perfect little world, especially with me. I can tell she's trying to think of a way to say no, but when nothing good enough arrives in her brilliant little head she says "ok" and we're off to my room.

A/N continued: Well, I don't knwo if anyone is still reading this- or waiting on new chapters, or if anyone new will pick up on this but it's basically the only thing I wrote back like 2 years ago, that I still like today, so I thought I'd continue it- If you read and enjoy this, please let me know so I can keep writing it :)


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